Cops & Reefers

When it comes to pimpin’ cribs, few places can compare to the shagadelic Shangri-La that is the Playboy Mansion. Like so many other guys, I’ve fantasized all my life about someday visiting Hef’s pleasure palace; little did I imagine that when I’d finally get my chance, it would be for a party hosted—of all people—by the police.

“Let me get this straight,” said my outraged activist pal Todd McCormick. “High Times is paying for you to come to LA to cover a party at the mansion that’s being thrown by cops?!? But wouldn’t send you to cover my marijuana party there? WTF?”

“Not exactly,” I explained. “See, BC Northern Lights are one of the sponsors of the event, and the owners offered to fly me and Danny Danko out first-class to cover it. Rumor has it they’re going to have live pot plants in their grow boxes.”

Unfortunately, it turned out to be just that—a rumor. When the BC boys picked Danny and me up at LAX that Friday afternoon, they informed us that after thinking it through, they’d opted to omit the plants.
After a quick bite, we hit the red carpet pre-party at Boulevard 3 on the Sunset Strip, where mixed-martial-arts champ Daniel Puder (the event’s organizer) was debuting his new Wet T-shirt Wrestling League (WTWL) for a pay-per-view special. In a ring set up inside the club, pairs of semi-attractive, semi-dressed females battled in a series of overly choreographed clashes that made Wrestlemania look like the Olympics. After the tournament, we smoked up with some of the WTWL girls and hit the road.

The next morning, we helped the BC guys schlep their grow boxes to the mansion, pigged out on some Roscoe’s chicken and waffles, then spent the rest of the day hot-boxing our buddy Yakov’s RV, swilling Tecates and playing Wii Golf while waiting for the party to begin. When the magic hour arrived, we all chipped in for an ounce of OG Kush and a limousine and headed for the Hills—Beverly, that is.

The Cops & Robbers Ball was a fundraiser for the Cops Care Cancer Foundation, which was auctioning off a variety of sports and rock memorabilia and—as unbelievable as it may seem—the Mothership, BC’s hydroponic grow unit, to raise money for kids with cancer. Puder hosted all of the action, with the help of numerous nameless nymphs and some C-list celebrities like Mind of Mencia’s Brad Williams, ultimate fighter Chuck Lidell, porn icon Ron Jeremy and Bunny Ranch owner Dennis Hoff. Sadly, Hef himself was nowhere to be found.

The BC boxes were set up right next to the fabled grotto, and while there may not have been any herb in them, there was certainly plenty in our pockets—about 30 or so joints that we’d rolled up in the limo on our way over. We blazed out all night, and despite being surrounded by about a hundred off-duty cops, no one said boo to us. In fact, the only ones who came over were the Bunnies (dressed in sexy police uniforms) looking to get high.

“If they’re the cops, I guess that makes us the robbers,” Danny chuckled.

“The only thing I’m gonna steal is her heart,” joked BC’s Mike as he took off in pursuit of one particularly curvaceous cop. By the end of the night, we were barely able to wobble back to the limo. Luckily, Danny and I were able to sleep off our hangovers in our fully reclining first-class seats on the flight home next morning.

“How was it?” Todd asked when I got back. “Did you like the mansion? Of course you did—shit, what’s not to like?” He told me that the next MPP party at the mansion was coming up in June, and “you’re on my guest list for sure. I really hope High Times will send you.”